


The Other Side: Part Thirty Two

by PiscesPenName



Series: The Other Side Series [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Massage, Missionary Position, Painful Sex, Romance, Sweet Dean Winchester, Vaginismus, pelvic floor dysfunction, vulvodynia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName
Summary: Carrie and Dean end up with a long massage session before he leaves her once more.





	The Other Side: Part Thirty Two

Carrie ghosted her fingers over the front of Dean's thigh. He purred in the back of his throat and let her. She wanted to worship every part of him, savor every inch of him. He stretched out underneath her touch like a big cat. She dropped her hand to the side of his thigh, ran it up to the side of his ass. He flinched a bit at the lightness of her caress and rolled to face her. 

 

He reached out to pull her close and she ghosted her hand over his cheekbone. “Can I just touch you?” 

 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

 

She ran it down his neck. “Can I touch you? I want to just stroke you.” 

 

Dean stilled. “You mean just lay here?” 

 

“Yes…” she looked at his handsome face, let her gaze linger on the beautiful proportions of his body. “I really want to just touch you.” 

 

“Sure sweetheart, whatever you want.” He rolled onto his back again and kept his eyes fixed on hers. “You do the driving, baby.” 

 

Carrie traced his jawline and the front of his neck, he tilted his head back a fraction. Dean closed his eyes and she felt him relax. She stayed there, taking in the slight roughness of his stubble, barely visible and then how it smoothed out into the skin of his white throat. She stroked the juncture of his shoulder, following his collarbone, felt the firm muscle of his pecs, circled his nipple. His chest expanded with a deep breath. _God, she loved him._  


 

He exhaled slowly, his lashes stark against the alabaster of his face. They fluttered a moment until she traced down his bicep and his forearm, feeling the downy hair there. 

 

She leaned over and ghosted her lips against his forehead. She saw his eyes open in surprise for a moment before he closed them again and swallowed. 

 

“You will always be the most handsome man I have ever seen.” 

 

“Course I am.” He whispered. But his heart wasn't in the cockiness. 

 

She gave his bicep a squeeze and traced her hands back over his bare chest. He was smooth and remarkably hairless. She felt down his sternum to his belly. It jumped under her light touch and he winced, ticklish. She put a little more pressure to ease the way he flinched. There was a tantalizing glimpse of muscle as they contracted. He had the slightest definition of the inguinal ligament that formed a V dipping into his groin. 

 

Carrie traced the indentation and his stomach bounced again. “You have an Apollo’s belt,”  she told him. 

 

Dean looked at her then himself. “What?” 

 

“Here. Above your ligament. This is an Apollo’s belt.” 

 

“You know the weirdest shit.” He told her with a smile. 

 

She bent her head down to put her mouth on the line of muscle. 

 

Dean gasped audibly and gave another delicious jump. She kissed to the side of his navel and sat up again, her hands resuming their stroking. She took his hips and pulled up gently on them, then slid her fingers to his flank, then the side of his ass. Just the curve of him under her palms made a spike of lust go through her. 

 

She rubbed lazy circles over the muscle of his ass. Dean hummed again and she shifted to run her hands down the side of his thighs; she could feel the downy soft hair starting there and briefly had the envy that Dean seemed to have less hair on his body than she did if she didn't shave. 

 

She let the backs of her fingers linger there and watched his handsome face, eyes closed in rapture. Now and again he'd tilt his head back so she could watch the elegant lines of the tendons in his throat. She rubbed the front of his thighs just above his knees and then drifted up and to the inside. Dean jumped and tilted his head again. She left her hand against the warmth between his legs, just below his balls. He squirmed, obviously anticipating that she go higher and dropped his knees apart. 

 

She moved back down and caressed behind his knees, watching his partial erection move as he shifted his hips. And then she was soothing the back of his calves and Dean jumped at the foreign sensation of touch there.  

 

He opened his eyes and they were intent with lust. “Come on, baby.” 

 

She moved to rub his legs again, soothing his shins. "Patience. You said to take what I want."

 

That seemed to humble him a little. "You're turning me on."

 

"I'm worshipping you." She told him. “Let me worship you.” 

 

“Well, damn, if you put it that way.” 

 

“It is that way,” she replied, moving back up and lightly ghosting over his balls. He bucked and gasped with a faint chuckle.  

 

She kept it up and his breath caught and grew irregular punctuated with a whimper. His body jumped. 

 

“Relax,” she soothed, stroking his shaft with the same touch. The skin was velvet over the stiffness of his erection. Her thumb traced the coronal ridge and he picked his head up to watch her touch him. 

 

“Jesus.” He whispered. 

 

Carrie took him all in visually. That handsome face, the lines of his body, the broad shoulders tapering down to his hips. The sight of him primed and ready under her touch. She felt her heart swell with affection. 

 

She loved Dean. She loved him so much. He would never know how deeply. 

She wrapped her hand around his shaft and squeezed. 

 

“Oh god!” His voice lilted in surprise. 

 

She snorted. “You're so cute.” 

 

“Okay, baby. Stop teasin. Please.” 

 

She squeezed him again and the color rose to his cheeks and down his neck. He was so fair skinned she could often see his blood pressure rise when they had sex. She let her grip go and trailed her fingers over him again. 

 

Dean grunted and grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. She screeched and giggled, trying to reach out with her hands to brace herself against his chest. She moved to straddle him and slowly, gently tried to ease herself down onto his erection. It hurt before she even got him past her entrance. 

 

She froze, taking a few deep breaths. Dean realized what was happening and he'd gone still and she saw the intellect kicking back into his eyes as he observed her, obviously concerned. He reached down to hold the base of his penis and try to angle himself slightly differently. 

 

“Try now, sweetheart.” She tried and her body clenched on her. 

 

She slid off. “I can't. I'm sorry.” Carrie blinked away tears. _Oh my god. Was she going to be a crying wreck in front of him again?_

 

Dean rolled himself on top of her, wedged his knee between her legs to open her up. He locked gazes with her, intent, focused. 

 

“It's okay, baby.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Not gonna hurt you. Just trust me.” 

 

She let him settle his hips between her thighs. He captured her with his green eyes, silently, his attention zeroed in on her.. She felt him try to angle himself against her and she started to close her legs instinctively, realized she hadn't done that in a long time. 

 

Dean leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. “Shhhhh. Stay open, baby.” He purred. “Stay open.”

 

He gently grazed under hear ear with his teeth. 

 

Her body arched up into him, wanting to be taken. Dean started to push in and she felt her pelvic muscles clamp down. 

 

He halted, sat patiently. "J...just me sweetheart." He stuttered, breathing heavily. 

 

She could tell he was trying to keep his patience with her. "Do you want me in you?"

 

"Y...yes, but it hurts." She said, gasping, still feeling him just a fraction inside her. He rocked very slightly, just a gentle movement of his hips. 

 

She gasped and arched, bit her lip. “Dean.” 

 

Her voice had a needy whine to it. He responded, rocking just a tad deeper and then when she loosened, sliding all in in a quick motion. She cried out, clenching around him in shock as he stilled. 

 

He kissed her ear. "It's okay. I'm in."

 

Carrie’s face went taut with pain for a moment. He kept kissing her ear, his breath hot and panting. 

 

He groaned deeply and her womb gave a little spasm of approval. 

 

Slowly, her body relaxed around the invasion and Dean began to grind gently, his hips moving her pelvis with each carefully controlled rock.

 

She cried out and raked her fingers down his back. Dean moaned, spurred on by her reaction. 

 

She felt that familiar old combination of lust and a bit of fear under it. Instead of surrendering to him or working with him, she felt over powered by him. It made it hard to get out of her head space and enjoy the moment. 

 

Dean was beginning to sweat and she could feel him flagging, shifting his hips and weight to try to get a reaction out of her. He finally succeeded and she felt his pelvis angled to grind against her clitoris. 

 

Even with her distracted mental state, she felt her body respond instantly. Dean read the signal and kept it up until she stifled a cry and clenched around him. He seemed unsure for a second, started to try to reach a hand between them...she brushed it away. “It's okay.” 

 

He nodded and shifted his weight to an angle that pleased him and then doubled his efforts. 

 

Carrie tried to keep the pain off her face as the grinding turned into thrusts. Luckily, it didn't take long before she felt his rhythm stutter and become erratic. She grabbed his flank and felt his muscles tighten before he made another clumsy thrust and came with a quiet grunt. He rolled off of her and shook out his arms. 

 

“Fuck, that's hard to maintain sometimes.” He panted. Dean looked over to her and cocked an eyebrow. “You okay baby? Did you come?”

 

She blinked and nodded. “Yeah.” 

 

“Kay.” He rolled onto his back and gestured with her to snuggle. That she did gladly, tucked herself into his arm and settled her head against his chest where she could hear the strong and slow thump of his heart working hard to come down. 

 

He didn't say anything for a long while. Then, “You okay?” 

 

“I'm fine.” she told him, turning her head to look up at him. 

 

“I hurt you?”

 

She shrugged. “It hurt more this time. More like it used to. It's okay.” 

 

She saw his face betray his disappointment. "You were doing so good."

 

“I'm sorry.” 

 

"No. Don't apologize, jeez." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

 

She knew he was too, could feel the sincerity emanating off of him. 

 

“God, I just wish I could give you a time where it just felt good.” He hesitated and then sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “Does it ever _not_ hurt?”

 

His expression seemed very bare and almost insecure. 

 

She flushed. “Well, sometimes it feels really good.” 

 

He cast his eyes down. “I'm sorry, babe.” 

 

“Hey…” she said, sitting up herself and touching his arm. “What's wrong?”

 

“Just wishing things were different. Wishin’ I had more time with you.” 

 

She felt her heart pick up the beat with a burst of anxiety. “I'm gonna be here for you whenever you come back, okay?”

 

He looked at her and swallowed, blinked hard. "Wish I could..." his eyes seemed a little glassy. "Wish I could make you feel as good as you make me feel."

 

Her heart swelled. "You do!" 

 

He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. "God, you're a great girl."

 

“Stop acting like you're dying tomorrow.” She took his wrists in hers. 

 

She straddled his lap and he gave her a sweet smile, all soft edges and charm and boyish kindness. She leaned her forehead against him. “Stop beating yourself up over my pelvic floor dysfunction.” 

 

He placed his hands on her naked sides. “Do you know how friggin hot you are? God.” 

 

“Well that's sure a change of subject from two minutes ago.” 

 

“You weren't on my lap two minutes ago.”

 

They spent the rest of their time lounging in bed sometimes talking, sometimes napping, sometimes lazily feeling each other until Dean told her he had to go. 

 

Watching him pull on his clothes and shoes was harder than ever, knowing he was somehow in danger, wondering if she'd see him again. 

 

When he pulled her into his embrace it was fiercely and he held and rocked her. 

“Dean.” She said, burying her face in the crook of his arm and stifling tears. 

 

“Hey.” He took her face in his hands. “I'll be back. Don't you worry.” 

 

“Of course I'm worried.” 

 

“I'll stop in soon.” He left with that promise.

 


End file.
